Day 9: To-Do List

 

Today's prompt was to write a to-do list from an unusual character. 

My first choice was a cat, then went for this!

The Poet’s To-Do List

 

Stare nonchalantly out window, trying

to describe the exact blue of the sky.

Contemplate oblivion.

Move a comma to and fro; replace with a semi-colon.

Backspace and delete. White page afterglow.

Reflect on the futileness of existence

juxtaposed with the beauty of a leaf.

Stagger muse-less to the kitchen,

consider anchovies on toast.

Shuffle through the 3pm doldrums,

do what you think poets should do at this time

and imbibe an espresso macchiato.

Shimmy when a word strikes the subconscious

like light hitting a sun catcher:

phantasmagoria, spectrum, heliotrope

bouncing rainbows across the room.

Delight in the quiddity of objects -

violet and elderflower gin bottle, floral china teacup,

verdigris watering can, smoothness of a spoon.

Wrestle thoughts onto page like a child

catching butterflies; grasp an idea like an eel

slippery and electric, crackling in an undercurrent whirlpool.

Colour-code emotions. Translate into wordy overflow.

Toast the dusk with a haiku kiss.

Worship at the silver light of a crescent moon.

Revel in the heightened feeling,

the fire-branding of words across a day

that blaze and blaze.

Day 29: Meditation

Today's prompt was to writ a Meditation poem. Just went with what wanted to be written instead.



Distance

The distance between me
and where I want to be
is the square root of the moon
multiplied by infinity.

But when we collide - albeit
momentarily - stars passing
clandestinely, unexpectedly 
every spinning part of me stops

and this endless realm is finite 
if but for a millisecond;
velocity of motion less than equal 
to this unparalleled emotion -

and I am where I want to be.
X marks the spot. Completely.
But I know, this centre cannot hold. 
And part, binary broken, gravity restored.

Day 28: Poetry

Today's prompt is to write a meta-poem i.e. a poem about poetry. I've done this lots of times before, so this is just a random, spontaneous outburst for now. 



Poetry

Poetry is a salve

a honeycomb hive

hi-jinks jester

quicksilver tongue

a field full of wildflowers

bookmarked memories

trapeze of thoughts

mish-mash of unending 'seem'

a fishing reel into the deep

cartography of the heart

dreaming with the light on

the quiddity

of everything

alchemy

inventory of living

power and shine

and keeping extravagantly alive.

Day 27: Sonnet Remix

Today, we had to remix a Shakespearean sonnet to come up with something different and entirely our own.

There's so many things you could do with this prompt! But I've always fancied writing the complete opposite, anti-love poem, riposte to Sonnet 18!


Shakespearean Sonnet no.18

Shall I compare thee to a winter's day?
Thou art more ugly and more miserable
than any leaden January grey. 
Rough winds, indeed, may blow my way
but my opinion will not be swayed. 
Thou art more dull than granite, 
more drab than inanimate,
as forgettable as erasable ink.
Bare as the branches of trees in November,
the sharp chill in the air come December,
and when winter's weary darkness descends,
you dear, are the heart it suspends. 
    So long as I may live and have eyes to see,
    my verse will not speak of you, believe me.

Day 25: Seasonal

Today's prompt is to write a seasonal poem, using all of the senses in description and including a line that is a question. 

To try and stay away from the cliched seasonal descriptions, I've chosen to go for a poem with a darker underside, and one that resonates with my experience of spring this year. 



Spring 

People don't die in spring, do they? 
When the sun returns in apricot tunes
and the twitter of birdsong stirs
the youth in us all, the hope of tomorrow. 

People don't die in spring, do they?
When the new green on trees
is a kind of belief, a resounding 'yes',
daffodils the beacons of brighter days.

People don't die in spring, do they?
When the pink flush of cherry blossoms
warm the air, a blush of love, sweetness
of sugar after the diet of winter. 

People don't die in spring, do they?
When the sky is a buoyant blue
and mornings peal out praises
and everything is just beginning again. 

People don't die in spring, do they?
When souls seem invincible, safe
from winter's danger, the world a promise
come true, a feast, ripe for the picking. 

People do die in spring, though. Despite 
the new leaves and teeming greens,
sun, sky and infinite dreams -
people die. Regardless of the season.

Day 24: Random Reference

Today's prompt was to use a reference book as random inspiration. Took my ideas from A Butterfly Encyclopaedia and 'The Awemanac' an almanac of daily inspiration, to come up with a random mix. 


On This Day

A blue butterfly will land on a flower
in your path. Lycaenidae, the wish-granter.
Polyommatus Icarus, our common blue. 
The Lyrid meteor shower will peak
and you will discover an unruly truth.

Barbara Streisand was born, Shirley Mac Laine too. 
(We are into Taurus season now.) 
The leaves on the trees are a bright lime green.
Did you know there is a type of lettuce called tango?
Eat like a queen and then dance! 
Shakespeare's birthday and death day have gone
and here we are, 
under a waning pink moon. 

Thought for the day:
Somewhere, a song is begun. 
Ebullience awaits
amidst the humdrum. 

Day 23: Animal

Today's prompt is to write about an animal. Since hearing of the death of this critically endangered Yangtze turtle, I just had to write about her. 
https://www.cbsnews.com/news/yangtze-giant-softshell-turtle-worlds-rarest-turtle-female-dies-china-zoo/


Yangtze Turtle Speaks

I do not bother anyone.
Succumbed in thick skin, 
I move along 
in slow surrender,
a surge of stalled strength.
Encumbered by myself
like an insular nation.

Some may render me glum.
Secretive, they say, rare. But what
do I want to know of their ways?
Deep underwater
is a better place to be.
Safe in my home,
no harry or hurry to disturb me.

Time, is my terrain.
Longevity my legend.
I am old in years and ways -
ninety years I have lived
but that is barely the circumference
of a life is it? Patience, perseverance,
virtues hard won.

I am like an animate rock.

A slab of shell, a dark shadow
of what the earth doesn't see.
Making my way through this earth
peaceably, keeping myself hidden, 
below the radar of reality.
I do not bother anyone. 


Now, captivity a knife in my soul.
Days long and the same.
Reduced to a boat that won't float,
an experiment that won't work, 
every millisecond a moment 
of mammoth shame.
My species, lost.  

Will I rise again like Kim Qui,
golden turtle god 
with Heaven's Will sword?
But is it a sword you see
when you look into my eyes?
I only aim to live solitary, unbothered, 
please.

My elegy will say:
she was one of only four. And maybe -
one of those turtles that carry 
the universe on their backs.
Now that I am gone,
will you even miss me?
Will I bother anyone? 

Day 21: Surreal

 

Don't know why but I was inspired by Van Gogh for today's prompt of writing something surreal. I've been reading his letters recently and watching the trailer for the movie 'At Eternity's Gate', maybe that's it. 
(First draft so it's very rough...)


Yellow
 
Yellow like the room 
of Van Gogh

burning daylight
colours too bright

the yellow room is sun
stared at too long

yellow room in a yellow town
attended by a mind overrun

poverty past talking about
yearning unaccounted for

the yellow room is claustrophobic
eternity's sore point, sulphurous -

the yellow room is frugal, fecund
articulate composition

the yellow room is gone
the sunflowers strong

the yellow room is not a room
in a house, but home

in a heart hollowed out
a hayfield at dawn

love, drawn out long
a soul seeking solace

on and on and on

 

Day 18: Elegy

Today's prompt is to write an elegy using specific concrete words.


Artefacts of the Dead

They leave behind a range of things:
toothbrushes in different hues, 
receipts and bills with the pain of names.
Empty chairs, a wardrobe of clothes
that from now on will go unused,
gathering memories like mothballs.

But it's the shoes that hit you in truth:
all lined up with nowhere to go. 
Footnotes to the living of a life,
a battalion of quiet quotidian intent -
laces tied up tight, finishing line in sight.
Reminders of the feet they held

and the places they went;
all the paths now that will never be tread. 

Day 10: Weather

Today's prompt was to write a poem inspired by slang terms for weather. Got not one but two!


Rainy Season

This mizzle no more. 
Skift of words
turned into downpour, 
no more drizzle,
cats and dogs galore. 

Day teeming 
with inspiration. 
And the poems 
are bucketing down,
lashing, bouncing, 

stair rods from heaven
watering dry ground. 

***

Good Mixture

I was oil.
You were water. 
Unable to mix,
a ready disaster.

But together, 
the light we had
refracted 
into iridescent delight -

miniature galaxy
of colour,
exclamatory 
against the ordinary. 

What they would call
a 'petrol puddle'
and step blandly
on over. 

Day 9: Lists/Hidden

Today's prompt was an interesting one, to write our very own 'Sei Shonagon style' list of things.

Also tried the alternative prompt - to write about something that is hidden. 



Especially Delightful Is...

The thrill of birdsong in the morning.
The way the light filters
through curtains.
Roadside daffodils 
yellow as yolks. 
The smiles of strangers. 
Good morning greetings. 
Unexpected sunburst. 
The shadows of leaves 
in a sidewalk breeze.
The fingernail curl
of a new moon.
Finding turquoise things.
A cat's purr. A congenial official.
Kindness, like a bloom, in the midst 
of grey indifference. 
The sparkling effervescence
of a drink between friends. 




***

Hidden

There's a poem hidden in this day. 
I just have to know
where to find it.

Will it make itself known,
before too long?
Or will I have to seek it out
like a shy cat
with food and some sweet entreating?

Like a daisy sprouting through concrete,
it is discreet.
It will require attention. 

Day 8: Jargon

Feck the prompt today, just went with poetic spur-of-the-moment inspiration.


Suburban Evening

Pavements sun-baked
glint their day kept gold.

Trees bask in tufted limelight.
Dappled shadows reveal new angles.

Telephone wires underline
the apricot infused score of sky.

Birds, in pairs, fly high,
chasing the long light.

Cherry blossoms beam, pink
in their secret dreams.

Flowers bow their heads.
Birdsong crescendo breaks

as the benediction of evening
descends and a new moon

appears like a silver wish,
a longed-for friend.

Day 6: If

I'm having a very tough time of it this week in regards to writing poems. I just can't seem to get going. It's been a very stressful week with truth be told, little room for poetry. None of that headspace required (or heartspace).

Today's prompt is to write a poem that emphasises the power of if. This is all I've got for now.


If

If I could only write a poem
good enough 
to share here, 

then my heart 
would surely feel
more free. 

Day 2: Poem Ending on a Question

Today's prompt is to write a poem with uncertainty in its ending and a question. 



The End

We live our lives in fear of death.
We live our lives heedless of the end. 
We live our lives, delusional invincible,
with a shadow most of the time we forget. 

We live our lives. Or do we.

And when the credits roll 
and the curtains close - 
what will our stories be?
How will they be told?

Day 1: How To

Today's prompt is to write a 'how-to' poem or 'how not to'. As always, NaPo is working its magic as my initial blank is soon met with sudden inspiration.




How to Partake in NaPoWriMo

Wake up early. Log on, linger. 
Let the prompt simmer 

throughout the day. 
(The early bird - in this case - 

does not necessarily
catch the worm.)

Allow your mind to feel its way 
in the initial dark.

Don't be afraid to flail or stutter.
It's potential, not perfection you're after.

Let the new green on the trees
buoy your belief. 

Be enthralled by everyday scenes:
blue in the sky, the curvature of a smile. 

Mix emotion with thought and stir well. 
Build a ladder of lines to reach an inner sky. 

And finally, when the moment is ripe
put pen to paper, fingers to  keys. 

Observe the blankness of a day 
coalesce into colour. 

Day 30: Fun Fact

 

Today our final prompt was to write a poem inspired by one of the weird facts provided on the website's links. I chose this one:

'In the US there are more plastic flamingoes than real ones.'  

I've always loved the flamingo garden ornament ever since The X-Files episode 'Arcadia' where Mulder displayed it as a symbol of unconventionality and defiance in the perfect suburban street.



Pink Flamingo

In the garden it goes. Hoe
of the bird world, neon,
tacky, flashy, plastic, -
a stick-it-to-the-neighbours
kind of garden gnome. 

Not elegant or subtle -
pink as a fist in the face -
the flamingo is all flamboyance
grace a lost case, just look
at the neck on it, literally.

Occupies pride of place
at my front door
in fuchsia all-weather 
rebel flair. Says life's a party,
hurry, let's hula.

Day 29: Plath Poetry Project

We had to respond to a Plath poem today from this website - what a cool (but difficult) prompt! I love Plath's poetry for its unparalled powers of unusual figurative language that is simultaneously beguiling and brilliant.

I chose Love Letter - one of my favourites by her and am doing a poem inspired by an element of it.


Stone

I was a stone before you came.
Life long and low in stasis, incongruous 
in my ordinariness, impervious to care.
Grey grit, flint, fragment flung far -
bruise of air - footnote unnoticed.
Solid sorrow, a fossilized tear. Sediment 
of some other where.

But when you appeared I became
a hop and a skip; a wish skimming 
silvered water; crystalline veins new.
A firm promise, world in your hand, 
warm, porous to promises, permanent
fixture deep at home 
in the well of your heart.

Then all of a sudden: sunk. Thunk of
an unwanted thought. Balderdash.
Transformation incomplete. The dredge 
of a dream, kernel of uncare. Scuppered. 
Dropped there in the dark, ripple of regret,  
forgotten, forlorn. Hardened now
to the point I rhyme with rock.

Day 27: Tarot

Today we had to pick a Tarot card and write a poem inspired from it - the first one I saw I went with - the sun!



Happy Ever After

So this is what it looks like:
happiness riding in to a life
on a chariot of glee,
a song of sun
tucked under its arm,
a gold decree
of fortuitous change.

"You will fall in love
with a man like the sun."

My heart falls. 

What about the dark
when he leaves?
The tower 
and chaos to come?
All that joy -
undone.

"Ah", she said 
with a knowing smile.  

Day 26: 5 Senses

Today: poem that uses images to engage all the five senses.


Spring Notations 

Sun returns,
tongue of flame
lick of light.

Blue sherbet sky,
fizzing 
in your mouth.

Crackle of branches
confetti leaves;
spring breeze.


Cherry blossoms
pink as a blush,
soft as a kiss.

Bee-buzz of lawnmowers
sweet-sharp green 
keen smell of grass.

Yellow yolks
of daffodils, over-easy
sunny side up.

Day 25: Warning Label

Today we had to write a warning label poem about ourselves. Hmmm....


Warning

Approach with careful consideration.
(Prone to irritation).
Do NOT, I repeat, placate 
with compliments. Short fuse will lead to
temper tantrums ( you've been told...).
Flammable if exposed 
to know-it-alls, pettiness of any kind,
an aversion to breaking the rules.
Beware, may bite if attacked
(but bark is far worse...)
Keep away from soulless ventures.
(Explosive content within.)
Subject to many whims. Ungraspable. Colours may vary. 
Delirious with dreams. Do not dismiss
under any circumstances.
(Content toxic to naysayers, undreamers).
May contain eccentricities, given over 
to rhyme. Tread with dare.
Riddled with uncertainty, will only respond
to genuine originality.
Take with a pinch of sugar, not salt.
No tolerance for moderation. Preponderance 
for midnight feasting, 
passion, poetics, wild galloping notions.
Don't be alarmed. 
Not suitable, for the faint of heart.